


Castle on a Cloud

by aneedleofmyown



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Prompt Fic, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:32:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneedleofmyown/pseuds/aneedleofmyown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“...she didn't want to be Arya again- that was a sad, reckless, stupid little girl. What she was now.... She was a shadow; she was a sword.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castle on a Cloud

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's gameofships shipwrecks angst-a-thon. Prompts: revenge, monster, a kiss is not a crime.

Clutching Needle in her tight fist, she slowly made her way up to the hollow shell of what had once been her childhood home. She could sense Gendry moving behind her, never more than a few feet away from her side. Looking around her, she saw for the first time the utter destruction and abandonment of Winterfell: sections of its stone walls had crumpled and fallen to the cold, hard ground only to break again on its surface; the dark halls that had once housed her and her brothers' childish adventures were now laid bare, stripped to the bone for all of gods and men to see. What truly frightened her, though, was that she had barely recognized it.

This was the closest to Arya as she had been in years. During her time with the Faceless Men, she had kept that part of herself in some secret corner of her mind that even she hardly understood. And she didn't  _want_  to be Arya again- that was a sad, reckless,  _stupid_  little girl. What she was now.... She was a shadow; she was a sword. But with all the memories abruptly forcing their way back into her heart, she was having a difficult time keeping the two of them apart.

Suddenly, she realized that there were tears trekking hot paths through the dirt on her face. Not tears of sadness or regret, but of pure rage. She could taste it, that all too familiar metallic bite in her mouth. She clenched Needle tighter in her fingers as she felt an enormous pressure building up inside of her, clawing its way out of her throat to produce a resounding shriek of sheer hatred. No god would be able to save those who had done this to her family.

“Arya!” she heard Gendry calling to her, reminding her that she was not alone. His voice seemed faint in her ears over the terrible hollow sound of her own loss. “Arya! Don't... don't leave. Come back to me. Come back to me,” he repeated over and over again. He took her face in his hands and pressed his face so close to hers that he was all she could see; as he continued, she could feel the vibrations of his words echoing within her. His eyes made it clear to her that he was not afraid, though her hand still gripped her sword.

The longer she looked into Gendry's eyes, however, the easier her breath came, soothing her burning lungs. For the briefest moment, he brushed his lips cautiously against hers, looking for some hint of reassurance in her eyes. And for that moment, part of her felt comforted. But another, larger part wanted to recoil. Whenever he got close to her like that, it forced her to see just how bleak a contrast his goodness made to the black darkness inside of her heart. And it hurt.

She stepped away from Gendry, filled with a self-loathing that was not altogether new to her. Using her training, she kept her thoughts from showing in her features as she turned away from the knight, her blacksmith- though his knowing eyes would continue to unsettle her for days.

And though she refused to say them out loud, these words filled her thoughts until they seemed to almost block out her vision entirely:  _What have I become?_


End file.
